


Star Wars: At World's End

by jamwrites



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirates of the Caribbean Fusion, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/F, Gay Poe Dameron, Gun Violence, Lesbian Rey (Star Wars), M/M, Movie: Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 02:43:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16525796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamwrites/pseuds/jamwrites
Summary: Rey closed her eyes for just a moment. Now everything was going to go to hell. They were going to fight their way out, just like they always had to. For once, she wished she didn’t have to fight. For once, she just wanted a day with Jessika, looking at the sky and stars.But Maz wasn’t finished yet.“The song has been sung, Han Solo!” Maz jabbed a finger like a dagger. “And you know what that means as well as I. The Pirate Lords, of which you are one, are summoned, summoned to sail across the star sea and convene at Shipwreck Cove.”____A crossover between Force Awakens and Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End, featuring the plot of World's End with the characters and universe of Star Wars.





	Star Wars: At World's End

**Author's Note:**

> To be clear, this was the first chapter I wrote years ago but never finished the series (and probably won't ever, just a disclaimer). But, I just found this chapter that I wrote and I'm kinda proud of how it turned out, so I guess I'll put it here. Enjoy!

**_A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…_ **

**_It is the twilight of an era. The NEW REPUBLIC, once willing to overlook piracy in the Outer Rim in return for information on the FIRST ORDER, is now prosecuting pirates without mercy or discrimination. This effort is spearheaded by the LEGATUS, a New Republic leader cloaked in mystery._**

**_The supernatural SUPREME LEADER SNOKE, who has fallen under command of the Legatus_** **_through means of extortion, prowls open space with his dangerous beast, the ship-wrecking PURRGIL, preying on any pirates who cross his path._ **

**_Some have sensed a disturbing resurgence of FORCE energy, long dormant. The Pirate Lords of the BRETHREN COURT have always acted outside of the wars between the Jedi and the Sith, but as the pirates are faced with mounting pressures from all sides, neutrality may soon no longer be an option…_**

 

As she watched the Dance of the Dead, General Leia Organa resisted the urge to spit.

She wasn’t quite sure where she had heard the obscene name for the phenomenon from, but she couldn’t deny that it fit.  The pirates shuffling towards the gallows with looks of defeat and vengeance and suffering in their eyes already resembled wraiths more than people. They would soon be dancing, and they knew it. They were beyond fear.

“On orders from the Legatus, your rights to a verdict of a jury of peers are suspended,” cried a man reading from a screen down below. “You rights to legal counsel and rights to gather in protest are suspended. All those convicted of piracy, of aiding pirates, or of consorting with pirates, will be hanged from the neck until dead.” _They chose this_ , Leia reminded herself for the hundredth time that day. Down below her balcony, in the courtyard, the executioner pulled the lever. The floor dropped out from under the pirates. _Not people. Pirates._ With a sickening thud, their necks snapped against the ropes. Their toes twitched the dance. In one corner of the courtyard, a pile of the dead’s boots grew.

As the next row of pirates was herded up to the gallows, Leia swept her eyes out over the horizon. This planet was unbearably grey. The old stone fort they stood in, the lapping waves of the ocean, the endless clouds overhead; all of it drained of color. Even the sigil of the New Republic on their transport seemed weary and old.

_A fitting color for death._

Sometimes, she felt her age keenly. One would have thought that witnessing so much bloodshed in a lifetime would numb the nerves, but that was not so. At least for her. Leia Organa felt each death freshly. Each one was a new wound. More people dying on her watch. _Perhaps this could have been avoided._ No. _They chose this. They chose this._

She made herself watch. They deserved that much.

A small shape caught her eye: it was a child, walking the steps to the wooden gallows. His clothes were grubby, his skin even more so. Greasy hair that hung to his chin did nothing, however, to disguise his age. He was no more than a boy. Leia felt a swell of pity rise in her chest. From this distance, the boy resembled her own when he was small.

He had been a trouble maker. He had snuck out plenty of times to have adventures. It would not have been a large twist of fate for him to end up in a fort like this one, with a rope around his neck and empty air beneath his feet.

Leia pushed the thought away.

The reader cried out the murder of the pirates’ rights once more, and informed them of their fate. Boots scraped against wood as the prisoners climbed the steps and were positioned in front of the nooses.

“ _Yo, ho, haul together/ Hoist the colors high_ .” It was such a small, high voice that Leia almost missed it. But the words were unmistakable, and floating from the lips of the boy. As he was granted a rope necklace, his voice grew. “ _Heave, ho, thieves and beggars/ Never shall we die._ ”

A small stone settled in the bottom of her stomach.

A swell of voices from the hanging platform took up the next verse. A choir of wraiths.

“ _Yo, ho, hoist the colors high/ Heave ho, thieves and beggars/ never shall we die._ ”

Leia’s hair played with her cheek as the wind picked up. The boy, he was staring at her unblinking, his eyes pools of black.

All the prisoners were singing now. Louder than should have been possible. Though the planet’s atmosphere was not cold, a chill swept over Leia’s skin.

“ _The king and his men stole the queen from her bed/ and bound her in her bones/ The sea be ours and by the powers/ Where we will, we roam._ ”

The executioner put his hand on the worn lever. Leia couldn’t look away from those pools of black.

“ _Yo, ho, haul together/ Hoist the colors high/ Heave ho, thieves and beggars/ Never shall we die.”_

The lever was pulled. The floor dropped, and with it, the pirates, and the boy.

Leia turned away, lips pressed tightly together.

She swept through the damp passages of the fort, through its hangars, and onto the elite cruiser readying for takeoff. In the Captain’s chambers she found a table set for tea, and the tall, straight-backed old man drinking it she had come for.

“They’ve sung the song,” Leia said, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. She tossed a silver coin on the tea table. It clattered across the shining metal and came to rest beside the Legatus’ cup.

The Legatus’ spoon clinked in his tea as he stirred. He took a drink, unperturbed, and the silver coin on the table seemed to lose its sense of gravity. It rose, spinning slowly into the air. When the Legatus put his cup down, the coin lowered as well, coming to rest beside eight others just like on a holomap spread across the table.  

The Legatus wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Finally. It took them bloody well long enough.”

Leia had worked with the Legatus for many years, long enough to recognize that dreadful tone in his voice when he spoke. Many mistook it for patience, but she knew the truth of it was: grief. Grief, and bloodlust.

She wondered how many corpses it would take to sate his thirst.

**

“ _Yo, ho, haul together/ Hoist the colors high_ ,” Rey sang softly under her breath, more to distract herself than anything.  Her tiny ship was making some worrying rattling noises as it descended through the planet’s atmosphere, and Rey had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t made for re-entry.

Another moment, however, and a few of the warning flashings died down. Rey grinned. Maybe she would live to see the end of this day after all.

Her ship broke through the cloud cover, and the planet’s surface was laid out before her like a map. For as far as she could see in every direction, red sandstone dominated, pockmarked with deep canyons that ran snakelike through the rock. And dominating it all was the massive structure before her. Haphazard and made from a hundred different pieces of scrap ship, the pirate fortress squatted like a toad in the desert heat.

She had arrived.

Rey pressed a button on her com. “Squad Two, are you in position?”

“Almost,” came the crackling reply. Rey couldn’t help the smile that came to her face. _Jessika Pava_ . “But _somebody_ almost dropped our power cutters in the water.”

“Hey, it stinks down here, alright?” Came the muffled reply in the background.

Her com was blinking: another incoming message. Rey cleared her throat. “Jess, tell Finn that I’m very grateful for his future efforts to save my butt today.”

“Noted. See you inside, babe. And be careful. Squad Two out.”

Jessika’s line went silent just as a hologram of a man with long hair and an even longer face appeared on the console.

“Approaching ship, identify yourself,” the man said. It didn’t escape Rey’s notice that a lightsaber rested on his hip, next nasty-looking blaster. The blaster wasn’t of much interest, but the lightsaber was certainly an attention-getter. Where would he have found a treasure as rare as that? And did it even work? Or was it ornamental? Depending on how this day progressed, Rey had a feeling she might have the unlucky opportunity to find out.

“I’m Rey, First Mate of the pirate vessel _Ghost_ and her crew, and I’m here to see Lord Solo.” That much was half true. “I mean him no harm.” That part was technically true, and would only be a lie if things didn’t go right today.

The man squinted at her. “The _Ghost_ was shot down two rotations ago.”

Rey coughed innocently. “That’s what I meant. Did I leave out the past tense? That’s what I’m here for. To discuss ownership of a new vessel with Lord Solo.”

“Very well. Land on Pad Five. And if you so much as look at me the wrong way, I’ll shoot you.”

So much for hospitality between pirates.

A short while later, Rey descended on the landing pad, her little cruiser kicking up great clouds of red dust. Already standing on the platform was the man on the hologram; his greasy hair was even longer than it had looked on her ship, and his face was dominated by a gigantic pair of extraordinarily red lips. He was dressed all in black, a curious fact considering how hot it was on this planet. Rey didn’t mind, though. She rather liked the hot breeze blowing on her neck, and the red sandstone was beautiful in a rugged way.

“Don’t you know it’s dangerous to be traveling the star sea these days?” The man said in way of greeting. His voice was low, sullen. Rey realized with a start that he was not very much older than she was. “Particularly for a woman. Particularly for a woman alone.”

Her mouth twisted. “Who said I was alone?”

The words were followed by the pattering of tiny feet down the ramp of her cruiser. The man’s eyes looked down, down, down.

“If you lay a finger on my favorite crew member,” Maz Kanata said, appearing at Rey’s side, “I will blow your father’s ugly little court to kingdom come, _Ben Solo_.”

_Father._ Han Solo had a son? Since when? Whose child was he? A million questions bubbled up in Rey’s mind, but she knew from experience that Maz would answer none of them.

If it wasn’t possible for the man’s—Ben Solo’s, apparently—expression to sour even further, than he gave it his best shot. For a moment, Rey thought he might strike Maz. But then, with a swirling of robes, Ben turned his back on Rey and began striding towards the open bay door of the fortress.

“Follow me,” he called over his shoulder. “Lord Han Solo awaits you.”

**

“Okay,” Finn said, “I’m not going to lie to you. This is a little gross. Very gross, actually.”

Jessika rolled her eyes, and then realized that it was too dark for Finn to see. “I’m rolling my eyes. And will you quite complaining? You’re a pirate, for gods’ sake. Act like one.”

“Sure, I’m feeling very pirate-y at the moment,” Finn grumbled, but after that he shut up. Jessika was glad of it, too, because she wasn’t in the best of moods either. The two of them had been trudging through the sewers under Lord Solo’s fortress for nigh on an hour now, backs laden with swords and blasters for Rey and Maz. The heat of the planet did nothing to improve the smell, either.

And all of that was nothing compared to the burning nerves that had settled in her stomach.

Finn stopped in front of her. “Right, so, if I’m correct, we’re just about under the main chamber. We just need to get past this grate.”

Jessika looked up. _You can do this, Rey._ She tried not to worry about Poe and the fact that they hadn’t heard from him in days. He had his job, just like they had theirs. She had to trust in him, just like she had been doing since she was a little girl.

Finn started up the electro-cutters, and Jessika noticed that his hands were shaking as the sparks flew.

“Hey,” she said, putting her hand over Finn’s wrist. He looked at her, and Jess was surprised to see the seeds of tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

Finn swallowed. “I’m sorry. I’m just—“

“Afraid. I know. We both have people up there, Finn.” Jessika took a shuddering breath. She tried not to think about how Rey’s life teetered on the edge of a knife.

But this is what they did. They were pirates, and they put themselves in harm’s way every day.

That was the price they paid for freedom. 

**

“I’ll need you to remove your weapons,” Ben Solo said as they came to a massive pair of red-painted blastdoors. Rey raised and eyebrow at Ben, but his face was unflinching “What? You don’t get a pass because you’re women.”

“You have no idea,” Rey muttered. But she began stripping off her outer jacket anyway. Underneath was her blaster holsters; the guns went in a bucket with heavy clunks. The sword on her hip. Blast-charge in her pocket. Two knives in each of her boots.

Ben stood, arms crossed. “Remove. Your. Weapons.”

Rey pouted, and reached down the back of her pants to pull a particularly big blaster pistol from her waistband. Maz put down a double-bladed axe that was bigger than she was, yet had remained completely hidden on her small person. The little old woman was dressed in a waterfall of woven material that looked like little more than a pile of rags, but Rey was one of the few that knew Maz liked it that way; those rags were woven from a material that was tougher than most metals and could stop all but the highest-grade blaster plasma in its tracks. Rey herself preferred lighter armor, bits and pieces of leather she had acquired over years of piracy. Her personal favorite that she always wore was the engraved breastplate that had once belonged to a Jedi temple guardsman. Sometimes, she liked to pretend she was one of those guardsmen, for good and real. A Jedi of the light.

She unceremoniously dropped her blaster onto the ground, holding Ben Solo’s eyes hostage.

"Thank you,” Ben said, obviously not meaning it. “Now you may enter.”

The red doors swung open, and what was beyond took her breath away. A massive room opened like the jaws of some great painted, wooden beast, with a ceiling that arced high over Rey’s head, made from thousands of bits of colored glass. Light filtered through the glass to reflect on the many steaming pools that stood sunken in the floor and the heads of the naked people in them. Great metal pipes lined the walls like tree roots, probably carting hot water and steam.   _A bathhouse_ , Rey realized with a rush of admiration. What better cover for their pirate filth than the place it was washed away?

“This place is beautiful,” Rey breathed. Maz snorted.

“It’s a pig sty.” A wrinkled, orange-skinned hand wound its way through Rey’s fingers. “Don’t say a word. Let me handle Han Solo.”

Ben led them through the maze of pools until they came to the back of the room, stepping over piles of clothes as he went. Clustered around a gigantic chair that Rey supposed was a throne was more than a dozen guardsmen. A pair of dangerous-looking twin Twi’lek women stood guard over the Lord himself: Han Solo, lounging in his throne.

He was old, but not as old as Rey had expected. Short grey hair sprouted from the top of a lined face that, upon closer examination, looked not unlike Ben’s. But there was something different about Han’s eyes, the set of his mouth. She couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was.

Ben Solo swept his hand in a noncommittal gesture towards Han, and then trudged away, disappearing into the voluminous clouds of steam that inhabited the bathhouse. Maz, meanwhile, pushed through the clouds and hopped up the steps that led to the throne like she owned the place.

“ _Han Solo!_ What a good twist of fortune that we may meet again!” Her gnarled voice cut like a knife through the atmosphere of the bathhouse.

The throne creaked as Han leaned forward. “I’m not sure “good” is the adjective you’re looking for, Maz. Last time I saw you, you were telling fortunes with one hand and exploring the contents of my purse with the other.”

Maz waved one of those hands in the steamy air. “The past is the past, we cannot change it, so why dwell on it? I’m here to talk about the _present_ , Han Solo. And the future. To undo what has been done in the past. And where’s my boyfriend? I like that Wookiee.”

“Chewbacca is going through your cruiser. He’ll find any _gifts_ you brought us.” Han sat back in his chair. He didn’t look overly impressed to Rey. His eyes flickered towards her, and a small spark of electricity traveled down her back. “Who’s this?”

“None of your concern. I am here to talk about buying a ship, Han Solo.”

“Why don’t you just steal one?” Han turned his head and spit. “Or are you still clinging to your morals? You better be careful, Maz. Too many of those will get you killed.”

“Refusing to pirate the innocent,” Maz huffed, “is different. Pirating those who deserve it? Aye, _that’s_ our purpose. You know this.”

Rey watched the two of them go at it with fascination. Maz had told her plenty of stories about her old friend Han Solo, about their daring adventures together in decades gone by. But she had never seen anybody banter like this with the old woman and get away with it.

She should know. She was one of the ones who hadn’t gotten away with it.

She also knew better than anyone Maz’ strict adherence to her moral code. It had been instilled in her ever since that ship had come down from Jakku’s sky like an angel descending from the afterlife: _we steal, but we steal from those who do not need it. We fight, but we fight for those who cannot._

_We are free, and we offer freedom for those who do not have it._

Rey knew too much about that one.

A fresh cloud of steam enveloped Han. “Yes, yes, and that’s why I’m a Pirate Lord and you’re not. Very heroic of you. You’re such a charitable woman, Maz. Is that why you’re trying to buy a ship? To go to Malachor?”

Instantly, the steam in the room seemed to take on an icy coolness. Rey shivered. She hadn’t noticed the chatter in the bathhouse until it disappeared. Wooden steam tokens clinked on hanging strings like bones.

“Oh, yeah, I know about your quest.” Han grinned lopsidedly. And for a moment, just a brief moment, Rey saw something in that smile. She could imagine Han smiling not too different than that to someone he loved.

That’s what looked different on his face than Ben’s: kindness. The old man still had it in him. Imagine that.

“Travel to Malachor, the planet of the land of the dead. But what do you want there?” Rey’s hand drifted towards her gun holster, only to find empty space. Han was standing now, walking down the tile steps towards her and Maz. “You know, it’s funny. Because I happen to own some navigational charts showing the way to Malachor. And it wasn’t two rotations ago that someone tried to steal those charts. But of course, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you Maz?”

Rey’s hand froze.

_Shit._

Han smiled like a snake who had just found a mouse.

“Bring him out.” Han waved his hand, and the two Twi’lek beside him walked over to a nearby pool and lifted a long wooden plank that lay over the water. Until that moment, Rey hadn’t thought much of it, but when she looked closer, she saw that there was a length of rope wound around the plank, and in the rope was—

Hands. Tied to the plank by his hands was a sopping wet person who gasped and spluttered for air as he was drawn into the multi-colored light. Curly black hair clung to a chiseled face, and that tattered leather jacket was unmistakable.

It was Poe. Poe Dameron.

He had failed.

Poe was gagged, but his eyes flickered open and caught sight of Rey. They widened. One of them was blackened. Bruises covered Poe’s face like a dark constellation.

Her thoughts sailed down to the sewers below. If Finn knew what position Poe was in…

Would she do any less for Jess?

In some distant islet of her mind, Rey wondered: were Poe and Finn… _Poe and Finn_? She wasn’t actually sure. Certainly the two of them had known each other long enough; the four of them had been pirating more or less since childhood, all brought together by Maz and working under her watchful eye. Finn had always been close with Poe ever since Poe had been brought in by Maz when he was thirteen. The two boys had been inseparable and insufferable all through their teenage years. They fed off each others’ energy, Poe a confident and dazzling sun of charisma, Finn a roiling cocktail of heart and empathy. And then, for a time, things had gotten weird between them. Rey had felt the chilliness that had drifted off the two of them even from afar.

That was also around the time Finn had come out to her. She hadn’t been sure what he was trying to tell her at first; why was it something that needed to be confirmed that he liked boys as well as girls?

It wasn’t until later that she found out.

“He grew up in the First Order,” Jess said one night when the two of them were sitting alone together on the top of a massive cargo ship, sailing across a dark, alien sky filled with stars. “You know, before he ran, before Maz found him.”

_The First Order_. The name still tasted like poison.

Jess took a shuddering breath. “And in the First Order, there’s a set way of doing things. Everyone has a station. Everyone has a job. Soldiers fight. Sanitation workers clean. Officers command. And men love women. Anything else, anything different, is stigmatized. Looked down upon. Punished.”

She had never wondered much about the scars on Finn’s chest. But sitting up there with Jess, she had suddenly felt sick to her stomach. There was nothing in the world in that moment she wanted more than to hold Finn to her chest and cry for him and tell him how honored she was that he had chosen to tell her. There was nothing more she wanted than to tear the First Order--the entire Dark Side—apart, and watch them bleed.

Rey tried to swallow the despair that was worming its way into her heart. They were not dead yet.

Han turned back to Maz, his voice dripping dry venom. He gestured towards a half-conscious Poe, whose head lolled on his shoulders. “Does this belong to you? I found it wandering in my vaults, poking around where he shouldn’t be.”

And then Han drew a knife from his jacket.

To her credit, Maz’s face didn’t betray a thing. “I have no idea who that one is.”

_Poe is going to die,_ Rey thought. Her heart was beating faster than she could take in air. It was possible that Han was bluffing, but what if he wasn’t? _Maz is going to let him die and then Finn’s going to kill me._

“Fine,” Han said, drawing his knife back, the tip pointing straight for Poe’s throat. “Then you won’t mind if I rid myself of some dead weight.”

The knife plunged.

Poe squeezed his eyes shut.

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t let him die.

“ _NO!_ ”  The word hovered in the air like vibrating metal. Rey clasped a hand over her mouth.

Han’s knife hovered a millimeter away from Poe’s quivering neck. A slow, shady smile crept across his face, and his eyes slid over to Rey. “I thought so. The silent one speaks at last.”

Rey closed her eyes for just a moment. Now everything was going to go to hell. They were going to fight their way out, just like they always had to.

For once, she wished she didn’t have to fight. For once, she just wanted a day with Jessika, looking at the sky and stars.

But Maz wasn’t finished yet.

“The song has been sung, Han Solo!” Maz jabbed a finger like a dagger. “And you know what that means as well as I. The Pirate Lords, of which you are one, are summoned, summoned to sail across the star sea and convene at Shipwreck Cove.”

“Don’t try to change the subject.”

“It’s not changing the subject if what you were talking about before doesn't interest me.”

_Please hurry, Jess._

Han rested the tip of his knife against Poe’s chest. “Fine. The song has been sung and the Brethren Court has to convene. But you know, Maz, the last time I counted, we only had eight Pirate Lords, not the nine we need to convene the Court.”

As Han talked, Rey noticed his hand snaking up to cradle the small charm that hung from a cord around his neck.

“Yes!” Maz came up to Han and smacked the knife out of his hand, caught it in mid air, and threw it end over end until it stuck, quivering, in a pipe holding up the roof. A jet of steam burst through the puncture, hissing like a kettle. “That is what we need your charts for! That is the direction of our fate! We make for Malachor for a _rescue_ , Han Solo.”

_Yeah, we make to rescue our own butts_.

“That,” Han said, “is enough out of you. Two thirds of the things your chapped old lips spit at me are lies and the other third are about a quarter of what I want to be hearing in the first place, which is half of what you’ve said already. And you just ruined the tip on my favorite knife.” The Pirate Lord turned and sank back into his throne. “Frankly, I don’t give a shit who or what’s on Malachor. I don’t give a shit about the stupid song, and I _especially_ don’t give a shit about killing your man over there, which would be perfectly in my rights, even under New Republic law.

“So, no. I’m not going to sell you a ship, Maz. All you’re going to do with it is piss off the New Republic or the First Order, because that’s what you always do. And guess who they’ll trace that ship back to?” Han’s eyebrows raised, and he jabbed a finger at Maz’s face. “ _Me_.”

Suddenly, Rey was tired. Tired of this man and of this whole situation.

She spat on the floor. “You’re a coward.”

Maz’s head whipped around so fast Rey didn’t even have to look to feel it.

“What?” Han Solo’s voice was very low, and very even.

“I said, you’re a coward.” Rey took a step towards the throne. And then another. “The New Republic is hanging dozens of us by the day. And the ones who escape the Legatus get caught by the First Order or the Purrgil or Snoke, or join up with the Order because they think we pirates don’t stand a chance. People are getting _slaughtered like animals_ , because that’s all the New Republic sees us as _._ Meanwhile, you want to sit here and soak in your bathwater and watch them die?” She was shaking; when had that started? It didn’t matter, though, because there was a white hot ball of fury in her gut that burned away any fear she might have felt. “You’re a Pirate Lord, Han Solo. People look up to you. You freed an entire planet of slaves. You helped topple the Galactic Empire. You were a hero. You _are_  a hero. So earn that respect. Fight with us. Help us rescue a Pirate Lord.

“Help us rescue Ahsoka Tano.”

 

At that moment, triggered by what must have been the word “fight”, two swords and a staff were thrown up between the floorboards, and Maz and Rey caught them easily, instinctually. Rey’s heart, beating beneath her rising and falling chest, out of wind from the speech, swelled and sunk. Jessika and Finn had arrived, but they might also have killed them.

Silence. The only sound was the steam rising off the baths, the smell of salts and dust. Rey stood frozen, her quarterstaff clutched in her hands, their ruse blown.

Han’s eyes were drilling holes into Rey’s. And for a second, for just a fraction of a second, she thought she saw his mouth tug upward in what might have been something resembling approval.  

And then his eyes drifted sideways. Rey followed them, and saw a shirtless man with a dragon tattoo on his chest, resembling many of the other tattoos Han’s men had. What was remarkable about the tattoo, however, was that it was dripping down the man’s skin.

“Is this another one of yours?” Han asked, that dangerous evenness back in his voice. “Because I’m really in the mood to kill somebody right now.”

Maz raised her eyebrows and said earnestly, “Go ahead. He’s not mine.”

A moment after, several things happened at once.

The first was that the front door to the bathhouse was blown off its hinges.  

The second was that one of the Twi’lek women guarding Han was shot in the forehead.

Rey watched in morbid fascination as the woman’s head snapped back, leaving a shining arc of scarlet as if the blood was floating in space. For just a fraction of a second, she was frozen. Listening, watching, waiting to explode. She breathed in the sulfurous odor of the bath salts, tasted Jessika’s last kiss in her mouth, felt the uneven but sturdy boards beneath her feet.

Her muscles flew into action.

Rey pivoted and brought the rear end of her staff up to connect with the jawbone of a New Republic soldier. In the space of a few moments they had flooded the bathhouse, sending naked patrons to scatter and get caught up in Han’s guards, who were trying to push through to the fight.

“ _Rey!_ ” Maz pointed at Poe as she stabbed a soldier through the gut with her cutlass. Maz picked up a blaster pistol from the floor and shot the man twice before kicking him off her sword to collapse into a bloody heap on the floor. Rey understood instantly, and took off across the room.

Everything was chaos. The calm of the bathhouse had shattered to be replaced with flashing blaster shots and the ringing of durasteel on durasteel. Rey pressed a button on her staff and a knife slid out the front end; she drove it a through a soldier’s shoulder, pinned the blade to the floor, and then used its leverage to vault into the air over a thicket of fighting. It would have been easier to kill the soldier, but Rey tried not to when she could. Everyone deserved a shot at a second chance.

Maybe, at this moment, the person was just fighting for the wrong side.

And besides, killing took time she didn’t have. Poe was still in his pool, whacking anyone who got to close with the wooden beam his hand were tied to.

_Where are you, Jess?_

As if in answer to her prayer, Jessika emerged from a trapdoor in the floor, firing off blaster shots as she climbed. Behind her was Finn, looking wide-eyed at the battle around him.

Rey took command, just as she always did. “Finn! Help me get Poe!” She pointed at Jess. “You get Maz! Clear a path to the door!”

Jess dipped her head and then took off, slashing her way through the crowd. Reaching down, Rey clasped Finn’s wrist and dragged him all the up into the “You okay?” Finn’s hand was sweaty. Or maybe grimy. Definitely covered with a substance Rey didn’t want to think about it.

She nodded. “Lovely. You?”

“Oh, you know. It’s not a rescue until I’ve crawled through a sewer.”

“Glad to hear it. Now let’s save Poe.”

“He’s over—“

But then a soldier was running at them, and as one Rey and Finn skewered her on their weapons (in the arms. Non-lethally.). After that, there was no room for talking, just action. Rey tried to keep her back close to Finn’s, because she trusted him, and because if she lost him before she reached Poe, she was toast.  

They dismembered several soldiers, who were unconscious before they hit the ground. Rey swung and Finn shot, cutting a bloody path through the brawl.

Something wet splattered on Rey’s cheek. It might have been blood, but blood wasn’t the only thing that came out of a body when it was opened up with a blade.

Sometimes she wondered about the families of the New Republic soldiers she fought on a seemingly rotation-to-rotation basis. _We fight for those who cannot._  And who were they fighting?

“There’re too many,” Finn panted, and Rey’s peripheral vision flashed blue as he squeezed off a couple of shots. “We can’t take them all.”

He was right; the New Republic soldiers outnumbered them at least two to one. Rey looked wildly around. If a decade of swashbuckling had taught her anything, it was improvisation.

Her eye caught on a gleaming object; Han Solo’s knife, embedded in a wall pipe. Steam hissed angrily through the puncture.

“Maybe we don’t have to fight them all. Finn! Swap me! Now!” Like a fluid machine, Finn ducked under Rey’s arm and passed off his blaster while Rey gave him her staff. She came up from the move, put the scope to her eye, and shot five times at five different pipes.

Steam from the underground springs exploded from the pipes, turning the war zone into a ghost world. Rey couldn’t see in front of her own face.

But she remembered where Poe was.

“Grab my hand!” Finn did. And then they were running, punching or shooting or stabbing anyone who got in their way or was wearing the New Republic insignia. Rey did a front-flip. Finn grabbed someone’s blaster out of their own holster and shot them with it.

Swashbuckling, indeed.

There was no time for thoughts. No time for compassion. Rey drew her blade across a man’s throat before she even had time to realize the blow would be a killing one.

And the worst part was, she didn’t even feel sick in her stomach. At least not at that moment. Too many years had passed, too much blood had been shed. Her stomach could handle blood now, even if she didn’t want it to.

_We are free, and we offer freedom for those who do not have it._

Every New Republic soldier who fell beneath her blade was a pirate swinging from a noose. Every drop of blood a stolen credit covered with blood.

_And what kind of freedom_ , Rey wondered _, is death?_

_**_

Poe was not having the greatest of days.

Actually, he couldn’t tell when today had started or yesterday had ended, because he had been fading in and out of consciousness for a while now.

It had started with his attempting to break into Han Solo’s fortress on Singapo’oore, which was a lovely except for the fact that that it was a hellscape, a barren planet of red sandstone and underground hot springs, something he had used to his advantage; it had only taken a quick scan of the surrounding area to find a cave that led down to an underground grotto that housed a bubbling spring. A few hours of claustrophobic rock climbing had granted Poe the beautiful sight of a cavern lit by crystals and sparkling water.

That’s where the day started to turn sour.

From the grotto, it was an hour climb up a drilled hole that was mostly occupied by a line pumping water up to the bathhouse. There was barely enough room for Poe to squeeze in the hole, much less maneuver his arms and legs. He had gotten stuck quite a few times, plus it was about a billion degrees, plus he _really_ had to pee.

The hole had led him to the underbelly of the bathhouse, and from there Poe had snuck ever upwards towards Han Solo’s vaults, taking out a few guards as he went. One of them had managed to knee him in the groin during a brief struggle. Poe had promptly vomited and then had to clean _that_ up, or risk being discovered.

So far, he would give the whole experience about two stars out of five.

The worst part was, he had come so close. So, _so_ close. Had picked the lock to the vault room’s door, picked the lock to the vault’s security system, hacked into that to shut it down, and then picked the lock to the vault itself. He had the damn charts slung on his back.

It was Han Solo’s kid who did him in. Poe turned around to leave, and the guy was standing in the door in his black robes looking like some ghoulish, washed up punk-rock nightmare.

“Oh,” Poe said. “Hi.”

Ben Solo didn’t look impressed.

How had he even known Poe was in the vault room? He had hidden all the bodies of the guards, cleaned up his vomit, everything.

Poe twiddled him thumbs as Ben stalked closer, mouth turned downward in an incredibly mopey frown. “So…what happens now? Do I talk first you talk first? I talk first?”

No sooner had the words come out of his mouth than Poe found he wasn’t able to talk at all. His whole body was frozen, his mind pressured on all sides by a gloomy presence.

Then had come the imprisoning, the beating, the tying-to-a-post-and-being-drowned-in-a-pool. Did Maz have a backup plan? Was he going to die here? He hadn’t even gotten to talk to Han Solo privately, which is why he volunteered for the mission in the first place.

So, yeah. Not the best day ever.

And now he was swinging around said post with his hands tied in a wild attempt to keep his sorry ass alive. One moment, the room was a war zone populated by New Republic commandos and Han’s cronies, and the next, steam was billowing everywhere and Poe was, somehow, alone.

Except he wasn’t. Somebody was running towards him. Poe braced himself for a fight.

Rey burst through the steam, long strands of her hair glued to her face with sweat and steam, her old Jedi Guard breastplate stained by a number of body fluids, her staff bloodied. She looked like a crazed warrior goddess, and Poe silently thanked the gods that she was on his side.

Right behind her came Finn, and something in Poe’s chest did a little summersault. He was okay. Finn was okay. Bloodied and battered, but alive.

"Thanks for saving me. Twice.” Poe grinned at the two of them while Rey cut his hands loose. Sweet, sweet feeling flowed backed into his fingers, and Poe instantly wrapped Finn and Rey up in a gigantic hug. “You guys are the best.”

Rey ducked out of the hug to fend off a screaming soldier, but Poe kept Finn close for just a second longer.

“I’m really glad you’re okay,” Finn said into his ear. Goosebumps rose over the skin that was touched by Finn’s warm breath. A thrill coursed through Poe’s body where it touched Finn’s.

He pulled back and smiled. Just a little one. “Same, buddy, same.”

What was going on between them? Poe wasn’t sure. When it came to Finn, he was never sure.

Everything used to be so simple. They were little Poe and Finn, the scourge of Maz’s pirate lair. And then they had grown up, and Poe had done something stupid, and Finn had drifted away.

They had fixed it eventually. Of course they had. But they had never talked, not really. A year or two had passed.

And now Poe was here, hugging Finn for longer than a normal hug, and his head was cloudy, confused, giddy.

Finn reached up under Poe’s armpit and shot. Poe heard a body hit the floor, and then Finn was shoving a blaster into his hands and battle tore them from each other’s arms and swallowed them whole.

For as long as he had been fighting, Poe had thought of battle as a living thing. It had a lifecycle like any other living creature: birth, life, and death. The tension before first shots was the infancy of a fight, and the living was the meat of it; the part where both combatants were conscious enough to still throw a punch. And a fight died when one of the sides did.

This particular fight was living its life to the fullest. New Republic commandos blundered blindly through the steam while Han’s crew, familiar with the layout of the bathhouse, took shelter behind the massive wooden support beams and fired off potshots. Wood splintered and flew where it was hit by bolts; Poe suspected Han Solo was going to need a new paint job after this particular skirmish.

Poe ducked under a stray blaster bolt. “We should probably get out of here.”

“Not without the charts!” Rey grappled with a soldier for a moment before kicking him between the legs and then doing something to his shoulder socket that would haunt Poe’s nightmares for a long time.

Han Solo himself flew past Poe, one arm hooked around a man’s neck, the other hand drawn back and repeatedly punching the guy in the face. They twisted gracefully round and round in something that almost looked like a dance.

There it was. His opportunity.

“I’ll get them!” Poe raised his hand and then, without waiting for an answer, took off after Han. It wasn’t hard to find him; all he had to do was follow the stream of cussing that coming from Han’s mouth sounded something akin to poetry. Poe picked up a forgotten bayonet blaster and stuck the blade between Han’s opponent’s shoulder blades.

Han glared at him as the man sunk to the floor. “I had him!”

“Sure you did.” An explosion rocked the bathhouse, and Han and Poe ducked behind a wooden beam for cover. Poe grinned at Han. “Let me just tell you how glad I am to have this opportunity to speak with you, Mr. Solo.”

“Stuff it, kid.” Han made to get up, but Poe grabbed a fistful of his collar and pulled him back down.

“No, I actually have to talk to you. I want to make a deal.”

“Trust me, there’s nothing you can offer me that’s worth whatever you want.”

Some unfortunate soul was yelling a battle cry while running up behind Poe. He aimed his blaster backwards and shot the guy down without looking. Poe took a breath. If he said this, he was officially betraying his friends. But wasn’t that why he had crawled through the cave? “What about Ahsoka Tano?”

Han’s eyebrow raised a fraction of an inch. “What about her?”

“You give me the charts, and in exchange, I give you Ahsoka Tano to exact whatever revenge you want for whatever wrongs she has so wrongfully wronged you.”

Poe knew he was treading on shaky ground, but he had to make this work.

His mother’s life depended on it.

“I don’t think you know what a deal is, kid.” Han sneered. “You’re supposed to end up with something of value, too. The charts aren’t worth anything to ya’ if you bring me the prize they lead to.”

“Oh, I was getting there. So I give you Ms. Tano, and then you,” Poe pointed at Han, “give me the services of the Black Pearl.”

A shadow passed across Han’s face.

“How do you know that name?” He hissed.

“Doesn’t matter, mate. I’ll only need the Pearl for a day, I promise.”

Poe would have given a lot to be in Han’s head at that moment. The old man wanted Tano--Poe could see it in his eyes. But why so badly?

“And what services would you be wanting from the Pearl?”

Shaky, shaky ground. Poe forced his pores to exude confidence, his best and only weapon. Every word was a knife in his friends’ backs. “I need the Pearl to track down Supreme Leader Snoke and Starkiller Base. It’s the only way I can find moth—him. Snoke.”

For a second, Poe thought he saw concern flash across Han’s wrinkled old face. But no, that couldn’t be right, could it? The old man laughed bitterly.

“Saying that name out loud will get you killed.”

“Don’t care. Do we have a deal?”

“The Black Pearl isn’t a toy compass, kid.”

“Do. We. Have...a deal?”

“I give you the charts, you bring me Tano…plus twenty thousand credits.”

“Ten.”

“Seventeen.”

“Fifteen, and I upgrade your vault security.”

They stared at each other. Poe could see the want in Han’s eyes. Whatever Ahsoka Tano had done to him, he wanted revenge. Even after all this time. Han still wasn’t willing to let go.

Poe knew what that felt like.                                         

Wordlessly, Han shoved the rolled up charts into Poe’s arms. He jerked his head towards the door. “Go. Find my son and tell him to take the _Millenium Falcon_. I’ll cover your escape.”

The charts were in his hands. Solid and real. But. “Ben Solo is not going to be our chaperon.”

“Then don’t think of him as a chaperone,” Han said. “Think of it as me protecting my investments. Besides, if you try to take off with your slow piece of junk you’ll be blown out of the sky. Now go!”

Poe took off running. The steam had cleared enough by this time that he was able to find the others fairly easily; Ben Solo among them. The battle was getting on in its age; Han’s pirates outnumbered the New Republic soldiers, and were cutting a bloody swathe through them to the door.

“He wants me to do what?” Ben frowned at Poe, seemingly unconcerned with the lethal blaster bolts flying around his head. “I don’t take orders from my father.”

“Ben Solo!” Han shouted from across the room. “You live under my roof and eat my food! Do as I say and take the damn _Falcon_!”

The open air filled his lungs like new life. Blaster bolts followed them out the doors, but there wasn’t any heart left in them. Poe, Rey, Finn, Ben, and Jessika sprinted across the tarmac towards the Millennium Falcon, Maz riding on Rey’s shoulders and urging her on, firing off wild potshots back towards Han’s fortress. Ben Solo was first on the ramp and powering up the ship before Poe had even sat down.

They had the charts. They knew the way Malachor.

And Poe was one step closer to his mother.

**

_Ahsoka Tano_. Han rolled the name around in his mind. Ahsoka Tano, soon-to-be-ex-ex-Pirate Lord if she could be returned from Malachor, which was a shaky half-step away from being dead. And, most importantly, she was a powerful former student of the Jedi.

_Ahsoka Tano_. The possibilities that came from that name gave him something that felt almost like hope. That Dameron kid had bought his revenge story. As well he should have, because it wasn’t entirely false.

But maybe…maybe there was hope. A fool’s hope. But it might be there.

The rest of the New Republic forces were easy enough to mop up. Han practically lounged while he gave the soldiers a skylight in their foreheads. He supposed he should have been more dour than he felt; after all, he was going to have to abandon this place now that the New Republic knew about it, and he rather liked the rustic charm of the joint.

_Ahsoka Tano_. Would she offer him help? Could he even make her?

Han manned a remote turret himself to make sure that the _Falcon_ escaped into orbit, and then set about rounding up hostages and appraising his two sparkling new military-grade Republic drop ships; only one had managed to limp away. They would fetch a good price. Maybe he could have sold one to Maz, even though she hadn’t really come for a ship. Maz was short on quite a few things—a sense of reality and logic being chief among them—but ships, she had plenty.

His bath—the last one he would take in this fortress—was just finished heating up when Chewie brought him a blinking holo device.

“Thanks, Chewie,” Han said, not really putting any feeling into the words. “How was your fight?”

Chewbacca roared in happy response.

Han stared at the ceiling as he contemplated opening the holo call. Was sending Ben with Maz the right decision? Sending him somewhere he couldn’t keep an eye on him?

But what was Han able to do? If anyone could protect Ben from what he really needed protecting against, it was Maz.

A spike of pain was thrust into Han’s chest just like it always was when he thought about Ben these days. He had looked so much like his mother when he was small; beautiful and bright and alive, but now he just looked tired and grey. What was happening to the kid?

He wished he didn’t know the answer to that.

If he didn’t, maybe he would sleep better night.

Plus, this was his only guarantee that Dameron would bring back Ahsoka Tano at all. What business did he have tracking down Snoke? The kid could just be bluffing. But then again, he knew about the Black Pearl.

And if Han followed up on his side of the deal—something he certainly had not made up his mind on doing—the kid would find Snoke using the Black Pearl. Of that, there was no doubt. And if Snoke followed the Pearl back to Han? Or harmed the Pearl for treachery? What then?

Han accepted the holo, tired of trying to step through the web of plots in his head.

“Han Solo.”

Today, of all days.  

“What do you want? I’m tired, Legatus,” Han said. “That's what you’re calling yourself now, right?”

“It’s what I’ve always been called.”

“Lies aren’t clever if we both know the truth. I think the name “traitor” fits you better.”

“I didn’t come here,” The Legatus said, “to bicker. I have a proposition that may be of interest to you.”

Han scratched his chin. “If it involves a noose, I’m not buying.”

"No nooses are involved. In fact, I’m prepared to make sure you never see one for as long as you live. Which, with your advanced age, shouldn’t be too much longer.”

Well. That was an interesting offer, indeed.

“You chose the wrong profession, bub. Should have been a comedian instead of a genocidal lunatic. Now go on.”

“You know by now the power of Supreme Leader Snoke. Your pirates cannot withstand us.”

Han flicked a piece of intestinal matter of the toe of his boot. “We seem to have withstood you pretty well today. Thank you for the ships, by the way.”

“Consider them… _my condolences._ Because my men are just that: men. You know what Snoke is. What he is capable of.”

“Who’s to say what I do or don’t know about that old ghost?”

“Oh, I think the remains of your fellow pirates in the Purrgil’s stomach can testify that Snoke is certainly no ghost. But I can ensure Snoke never sees you nor your son ever again.”

The words were like a lightsaber through Han’s chest. It was a good thing the Legatus couldn’t see his reaction, because Han was sure that for a moment, it was written all over his face. To never have to worry about Snoke…and the Legatus wasn’t bluffing: he had the power to follow through on his claim. For the moment, anyway.

Of course, this would mean betrayal. Han could already smell it in the Legatus' words.

But for them to be shielded from Snoke…

Han closed his eyes, and then leaned forward.

“I’ll bite. What do you want?”

       

Five minutes later, Han put down the holo. He took a long look around the destroyed bathhouse. Bits of splintered wood were mixed in with bits of splintered bodies. He found himself thinking of the day he had met Maz Kanata. He had been desperate, out of credits, out of fuel. She had been enigmatic, wealthy.

Inspiring.

Her words still rung in his ears to this day, the same ones he mocked her for now. There was a reason, Han thought, that he had become a pirate. Sure he had been poor, but there were jobs that could have been taken. Sure he had wanted adventure, but there were legal bounties to be found and cashed in. There had been a reason he had foregone the law and turned pirate. Something bold and heroic even, some higher purpose he had believed in, even if that purpose was veiled in layers of backstabbing and selfishness.

These days, in this ruined fortress, that reason seemed far away.

“Ben,” Han said when his son picked up the holo. “Are you alone?”

“Utterly.”

Sure, pirates sometimes struck out for their own and stole from others, but Han remembered looking after his ragtag group when he was young, making sure they had warm places to sleep on clothes on their backs. They had been brothers and sisters to him.

Now they were just frozen bodies, floating in space.

Han took a breath. He had made a deal with the Legatus. There was no backing out.  

“Then listen carefully. There’s been a change of plans.”


End file.
